


The T in TommyInnit Stands for Thief

by ContinuoslyLivingAfraid



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Aka Swearing, Crack, Family Dynamics, Gen, Mild Language, Sort Of, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContinuoslyLivingAfraid/pseuds/ContinuoslyLivingAfraid
Summary: What would a sixteen-year-old do if he ever woke up hungry without any food?Steal from his family, that's what.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 466





	The T in TommyInnit Stands for Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and have a little laugh :)

Rustling snow, crackling leaves, heavy breathing. Tommy spared no thought to any of those sounds. His heart pounded — almost in sync with his running stomps — like thunder in the strongest of storms.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, come on, come on.” A sharp gasp shot out of him at the sight in front of him — a clearing.

Slowing to a stop, he slumped onto a nearby tree.

A nervous chuckle stumbled out of his lips. “I should be fine.” Tommy threw a look at the sea of trees behind him. “I wasn’t chased or anything.” A deep breath later, and he continued, “I don’t think he even noticed me in there!”

The blonde straightened his spine and fixed his backpack: a bright red bag filled to the brim with all sorts of goodies, none necessarily his.

“Oh my god.” A mischievous glint sparked in Tommy’s eyes. “I can’t believe we actually stole from Technoblade!

“Though is it really that surprising? This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. It’s surprisingly easy when he’s busy with potatoes and horses and all that weird stuff. Weird man that one,” he glanced for a second at the spruce trees behind him before muttering, “weird but scary man that one.”

Shaking himself — partly from the cold and partly from the fear of Techno chasing him, he briskly walked away.

The white cloud of air slipping past Tommy's lips seemed to glow in the moonlight before merging with the taiga’s snow. As white as it was, the darkness still thoroughly blanketed the world. Glimmering stars caught his eye. Looking up, he noticed that the moon was just about to set.

And wouldn’t you look at that; hues of the sunrise bled onto sheet-white snow.

Tommy frowned. He still needed to raid one more house.

“I gotta hurry.” he said, though his words went unheard in the rapid crunching of snow.

Far from Techno’s house, on the border between the taiga biome and the town, a sturdy house stood. It was nothing big but nothing to scoff at all the same. Made from stone — smooth, brick and all other varieties, one could say the house was reliable. One could say the house was a stable thing amongst the chaos. But anyone who took a closer look would notice the strange array of ‘pets’ or ‘guards’ in front of the house — with skin an inhumane green or constant hissing. And with that, they’d notice the undeniable danger that house possesses.

It was quite like its owner in that way.

“Philza Minecraft may be sane-looking,” Tommy said with an impish snicker. “But he is just as insane as the rest of us.”

Sneaking up onto the front door was easy — unlike with Wilbur’s who had too many neighbours watching his house for him or Techno who was, well, Techno.

“Alright,” he took a deep breath, “let’s not fuck this up.” He inserted one of the ends of the tool into the keyhole. “Tension wrench in; turn the lock.” His right hand grabbed another tool — this time with a proper handle and a hook-like bend at the end. “Let’s get to picking.”

Slowly, he inserted the pick into the hole and began fiddling around with it. A click came, followed by another. A couple of seconds after that, another. And another. Ah, nothing. Time to start from the top again.

A few minutes passed, and the final click came. Easily, Tommy turned the wrench further, fully unlocking the door.

His glee glimmered in his pearl-white grin and light blue eyes. However, he shook it all off.

“Don’t get over-excited now.” He held onto the door handle tight. “This old thing creaks like crazy.”

Slowly, quietly, and oh-so carefully, he pushed open the door.

The metal door swung without a creak, thankfully. Without a second spared, Tommy rushed into the kitchen.

The kitchen drawers were, expectedly, neat. Reds and oranges stained the wood from the rising sun. Tommy vaguely knew where what he was looking for was — emphasis on was. Apparently, Phil had taken notice of the multiple disappearances of his various belongings. Appropriately, he had decided to move everything around.

Tommy was not very happy with that change. Add some panic from the slipping time and all that was left was a slightly clumsy Tommy who was not careful enough with the sounds he was making. So uncareful that he might just wake up-

"Tommy?"

Tommy's spine shot straight up. He knew that voice. It was one he was very familiar with. It scolded him when he did something horrid. It laughed with him when that thing turned out to be relatively harmless. And it laughed at him when that thing came back to bite his ass.

He turned around, a thousand words and excuses in his head. However, no amount of words or excuses can prepare him for what he'd see next. So intense was the sight that it made him gasp, made him shake and made him piss his pants.

Not of fear. Absolutely not. He was pissing himself out of sheer laughter.

The 16-year-old dropped to his knees, curling into a ball. If people could die from dopamine, then Tommy might as well be six feet under.

“Philza,” Tommy wheezed out, “wha-” Another burst of laughter. “Phi-” He shook his shoulders. Apparently, breathing was a struggle, and so was forming sentences. His snorting didn’t stop. Makes you wonder if Technoblade was really the pig in the friend group.

“Tommy," Philza hissed, bewildered, "what the fuck are you doing?”

“Laughing at you obviously!” Tommy’s eyes glinted like the eyes of a little imp. “Look at you! Your hair's a mess, and you’re wearing dumb heart-patterned boxers like the cartoons and-”

“Excuse you,” Philza interjected, placing his hands on his hips. “These are hardcore-heart-patterend boxers.”

“And you’re holding a flip-flop!” He mustered before falling once more, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His laughter, shrill and high, echoed through the room.

But it’s not like he was wrong. In Phil’s right hand, there was a bright green flip-flop. Though it was an atrocious colour, it definitely carried appropriate vibes to match his night get-up — a worn T-shirt and twitch socks had never been so très chic. Tommy, blind to fashion as he was, found the flip-flop an inappropriate accessory. Phil, however, felt that the flip-flop was perfectly justified.

“Well I heard a ruckus downstairs; who would’ve known what’s going on. There could’ve been a robber!”

“And what would you have done with it? Thrown it?”

Phil scoffed, “No, I wouldn’t have thrown it.” He raised his eyebrow. “I would have slapped them with it Asian parent style.”

That was it; Tommy officially lost his mind, fully collapsing onto the floor from laughter.

“Okay,” Phil said once more. “Don’t avoid the question; what are you doing here?” His gaze went up to the messy array of items on his kitchen counter. “Were you going through my stuff?”

By this time, Tommy had calmed down a little. His face was still very much flushed, but he could at least breathe.

“Uhm,” he chuckled. “Well, you see.”

“Are you going around and stealing stuff again?”

“Well,” Tommy said, elongating the ‘e’. “I wouldn’t call it kidnapping. It’s like borrowing.”

Phil crossed his arms.

“Without permission.”

Phil squinted his eyes.

“Or their knowledge.”

Phil raised his eyebrow before opening his mouth, but Tommy took one look at the flip-flop in his hand and quickly interjected.

“Alright, alright, I was stealing.” Tommy grumbled as he crossed his arms and slouched, sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor.

“Why though?”

“I woke up at like four? Three in the morning? And I was hungry.” Tommy rolled his eyes as he collapsed onto the cold, stone floor. “But I didn’t have any food cause I haven’t bought any groceries and I lost all my food in the festival yesterday.”

“So you decided to steal.” Phil was wearing his classic ‘unimpressed dad’ smile.

“Well, Wilbur was away, so he wouldn’t know. And it’s surprisingly easy to steal from Techno when he’s busy.”

Phil sighed and shook his head.

“Alright you big baby,” Phil said with an exasperated but fond smile, “let’s get you some breakfast.” He motioned for Tommy to get up. “But first, help me clean this up you dramatic brat.”

“Oh.” Tommy grabbed his backpack. “I was planning to steal some cereal from you.” He pulled out a bowl and a carton of milk from the bag. “I already got milk from Wilbur and some cutlery from Techno.”

Phil laughed. “Of course you did.” He shook his head. “Set them down, we’ll have some nice cereal for breakfast okay?”

Extras:

Philza: By the way, how did you get in my house?  
Tommy: Oh, I picked your lock.  
Philza: What.  
Tommy: Ye, I learned lockpicking from Dream. Something about metal doors without pressure plates or buttons.  
Philza: ...

Philza: So were you the one who kept stealing my milk too?  
Tommy: Yep. I stopped for Wilbur’s milk though. Figured I should drink tall man’s milk rather than short man’s milk.  
Philza: Oh…

Tommy: Oh, by the way, you might want to check on Techno sometime.  
Philza: What?  
Tommy: Yeah, I couldn’t find any food at his place except for potatoes. I mean, there used to be cereal, but now there’s nothing! Found some rat poison though.  
*Phone rings*  
Philza: Hello?  
Technoblade: PHIL! HELP! I’m in peril! The rat poison lied, Phil! They didn’t kill the rats; they turned the rats smarter. FIRST, they took my cereal. NOW, THEY TOOK MY SILVERWARE!  
Philza: ...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm somewhat contemplating turning this into a wholesome sleepy bois series. I guess we'll see. :)


End file.
